


Friends to Lovers

by LexReadsBooks



Series: Friends to Lovers [1]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, College, Crushes, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Romantic Friendship, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexReadsBooks/pseuds/LexReadsBooks
Summary: Long before Logan met Rory at Yale, he was lifelong friends with Beatrice Astor, whose family owned the Martha’s Vineyard home next to the Huntzbergers’.  In the summer before their first year of college, Logan and Bea experience a pivotal change in their relationship, moving from friends to lovers.  At the end of the summer, they part ways for their respective colleges (Logan at Yale, Bea cross country at Stanford) and completely lose touch.  Four years later, Bea and Logan meet again during their senior year of college, when she suddenly transfers to Yale and is shocked to discover her friend now has a steady girlfriend.Friends to Lovers alternates between chapters set in the past as Bea and Logan’s summer romance developed and the present day at Yale with Bea, Logan, and familiar characters like Colin, Finn, and even Jess.  The chapters also feature different points of view from different characters.  Overall, it’s a story of enduring friendship and lasting love, as well as an exploration of the privilege, wealth, and luxury of the social elite of which the Huntzbergers and Astors are part.  The story charts the moments in the characters’ lives when they hold tight to those ties—or attempt to break through them.
Relationships: Logan Huntzberger/Original Female Character(s), Rory Gilmore/Logan Huntzberger
Series: Friends to Lovers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897609
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter One

_Setting: 2005, Yale, Bea’s Perspective_

“Logan Huntzberger, is that you?”

Bea brandished this rhetorical question while simultaneously reaching out to grab the shoulder of the guy passing by.

She stood back a couple feet, equally amused by and self-critical of her choice of suspenseful theatrics. 

She’d seen Logan walking across the courtyard with a group of other students from her position at the coffee cart and had waited, a step behind the cart, hoping to surprise him. For all he knew, she was in California, and he could have hardly guessed that she was lurking behind a coffee cart in Connecticut. 

But, if she was being honest with herself, her initial choice to hide behind the coffee cart while he approached was less a premediated attempt to shock her friend, and more a reflexive reaction prompted by a sudden onslaught of doubts. _Why_ hadn’t she told him she was transferring to Yale when it was decided months ago? _Why_ hadn’t she called him when she got to campus a few days ago? And the ultimate question: _what if he wasn’t happy to see her_?

From the safe vantage point that the coffee cart granted her, she’d convinced herself at this point that she might not say anything when he passed by. If she remained a silent onlooker, she could simply wait to greet him over a far more natural email or phone call. 

However, when he’d neared her vicinity, she had reacted instinctively, pulling the not-so-subtle call out, surprise shoulder tap trick, for better or for worse.

Logan spun around quickly at her touch and the sound of his name, with a purely puzzled look that soon morphed into one of recognition with lingering confusion as his eyes met hers.

“Bea!” He exclaimed, opening his arms widely in greeting. She found herself enveloped in a hug shortly thereafter.

“What are you doing at Yale?” Logan continued in a stunned tone. Bea pondered the appropriate answer to his question as her cheek rested against the prickly wool of his sweater. The courtyards of Yale, under the close eyes of two of his friends who were definitely gawking at her, didn’t seem like the place to disclose the tell-all version of her fleeing Yale narrative.

She took a step back from the hug, which seemed like the fitting thing to do given the public setting, as she responded. “Oh… well, I, uh, transferred! I go here now.” 

She looked at him closely to gauge how her response would be received. Was she paranoid, or did Logan now look totally alarmed? 

Bea’s worries started to creep up again. _Why_ hadn’t she warned him? Then again, she asked defensively, now— _why_ did she need to warn him? 

Their relationship, if it could even be called that, had happened years ago! They’d barely talked since, largely due to the fact that Bea never came back to New England on school breaks, fully intending to avoid her family. Not seeing Logan had been an unfortunate consequence. 

However, when they’d parted ways, they’d wanted a clean break. After all, anything resembling a long distance, cross country relationship at the beginning of their first years in college had been less than desirable to them. Maintaining physical distance between them had helped to enforce that agreement.

As the years had stretched on in almost total absence and silence, Bea had admittedly felt an increasing desire to see Logan again. When she’d spent time reminiscing about their past, the memories she turned to were less often their childhood summers, and far more often those intimate summer months together. How could she pretend that those months hadn’t been some of the most pivotal of her life? Whether she was considering it in terms of their romance, or their friendship, they had developed a connection that summer that was beyond simple classification. For that reason, even miles and miles away, she’d felt a close tie to Logan still.

Yet, standing in front of him now, looking at his aghast gape—still on his face!—she had to question everything she had expected of this moment. When she’d imagined this meeting, she’d hoped her reception would be a bit more welcoming and her appearance a bit less frightening. 

_For godsake, I’m one of his oldest friends!_ She thought indignantly. _I don’t deserve to be treated like some evil ghost of girlfriends past coming to haunt him at Yale._

Her warring thoughts were interrupted as another hand appeared on Logan’s shoulder, mirroring Bea’s own movements from a minute earlier. A girl Bea recognized from being near her in line at the coffee cart was now at Logan’s side.

“Okay, I have to admit, I was reluctant when you wanted me to visit you on campus, but did I ever miss this coffee cart! Here’s your coffee.” She held out a cup to Logan, who remained frozen, still staring at Bea. 

A few perceptibly long seconds passed, then Logan seemed to adapt, taking the cup from the girl in one hand, while gesturing toward her with the other. “This is my girlfriend, Rory.” 

Frantic thoughts ran through Bea’s head. _Girlfriend?_ Logan had a girlfriend? And Bea had surprised him, all while his girlfriend was feet away, probably wondering who the strange girl in a lingering hug with her boyfriend was? _Oh, this is hell!_

After a long pause that gave Bea and Rory slightly too much time to look at each other curiously, Logan added, “Rory, this is my—err—my old family friend—Bea—Beatrice Astor.” 

Even when he was younger, Logan had been a smooth talker, bribing their respective siblings when they wanted something or getting them out of trouble with their parents more times than she could count. He’d been far more composed than your average kid (or teenager), so seeing him this flustered would have been immensely funny to her in nearly any other context. At the moment, though, she was too on edge, lacking the ability to appreciate the potential humor of his awkward pauses and nervous glances.

Logan’s two groupies, on the other hand, had no issues finding entertainment in this scene. They’d quickly caught on to the unspoken nuances of the scene and filled in the gaps Logan’s halted introduction sentences had entailed.

“You know, Colin, Logan’s conquests have had plenty of unfortunate run-ins with each other, but I’ve never seen one this dreadfully tense before! The damsels are in distress and the hero of our story has gone mute.”

“Finn, I feel as though I’ve been asleep since Logan and Rory have been going steady—and this showdown is like a bucket of refreshing ice water on my head to jolt me awake!” 

“But, wait, we’ve ignored the very lady of whom we speak! We must properly present ourselves to Ms. Beatrice Astor.”

Following this declaration, both came forward, pushing past Logan and Rory, and presented themselves, one opting for a playful bow, the other for a dramatically low curtesy, both with flippant hand motions.

Observing their overexaggerated actions and grand declarations, Bea had the impression this was a time-tested routine and not their first boisterous performance for a girl. She knew these boys liked to be seen and heard by as many onlookers as possible. After all, she’d met plenty of their type in her years of private school and Ivy League education. What young men like Finn and Colin lacked in actual self-confidence, they made up for in their conviction that others eagerly enjoyed their displays of wealth and wit.

They continued, matching their movements with grandiose and overly-personal introductions.

“Bea, it’s a pleasure to meet you. If you’re Logan’s old friend, then I think you could be my new friend.” The one called Colin said suggestively, complete with a saucy wink and shove to his companion’s shoulder in competition for center stage.

The one called Finn returned the shove, replying, “If you’re Logan’s old friend, and Colin’s new friend, you can be my even newer friend, love!”

As Bea resisted a simultaneous urge to laugh and roll her eyes, she had to admit to herself that Colin and Finn’s attention grab was a saving grace of sorts—their chattering actually diffused much of the nervous energies from the awkwardness of the so-called conquests run-in.

Logan finally intercepted the theatrics, stepping forward and pushing Colin and Finn backward. “Gents, gents, please, give Bea some space! Don’t overcrowd the newcomer, you might send her running all the way back to Stanford with those poor manners.” 

_Now that sounded more like Logan_ , Bea thought reflexively. Finn and Colin’s show seemed to have given him time to recover his bearings as well, allowing for the return of his natural charisma. Hearing this lighthearted tone reminded her of the hundreds of conversations they had spent bantering back and forth about any topic under the sun. 

“We doth protest, Logan. The manners you just witnessed were on par with the highest rules of etiquette across the continent, nay, the globe.”

In a better mood already, Bea instinctively quipped in response to the group, “Sparkling manners might impress my mother, as you know, Logan, but me, not so much. It’s going to take more than that to send me packing back to California.”

“You mean to say we bowed and curtsied for naught, then?” Finn responded, dejected.

Bea started to catch on why Logan might keep these two around: pure entertainment. 

She replied, teasing, “It wasn’t totally for naught. The next time I need a good laugh, I’ll remember this scene.”

“If it’s merriment you want, you should stop by our party on Friday night, lass.” Colin said, suddenly dipping into the Scottish-variety of formalities.

“I’ll check my social calendar and see if I can fit you in,” Bea said sarcastically, sensing that anything sincere was the antithesis of Colin and Finn’s M.O.

“Pleasure. Now we really must be going, loves and Logan.” Finn declared to the group with mock urgency, checking what must have been an imaginary watch on his wrist. “We have academics, and what not.” 

Colin and Finn sauntered away, and, judging by their slow pace and overall lethargic demeanor, she very much doubted they were urgently on their way to attend actual classes. If she had to guess, she would assume they had simply grown tired of the spectacle before them.

Bea knew that her stage exit could also be arranged with this same pretext of “academics, and what not.” She looked again toward Rory and Logan’s direction, fixing her eyes approximately at the midway point between their heads, hoping to achieve the semblance of eye contact while avoiding the actual thing.

“I should be going too, I have a class soon. It was nice to meet you, Rory.” With this, Bea did finally again meet Rory’s eyes. 

“Nice to meet you too, Bea.” Rory responded with a small, slightly inquisitive smile.

“We’ll see you Friday, Bea.”

She quickly looked to Logan with an eyebrow raised. 

Four years ago, she would have immediately challenged him for assuming that she planned to go to the social outing. She would’ve suggested he’d challenged her independence and free will, while being secretly touched by the fact that he felt like he knew her and used their familiarity as a way to predict her decisions. Four years ago, she’d simply jumped for any context to enter a verbal sparring match with him on the grounds that it providing an excellent outlet for their flirting.

Today, however, she had no idea how to interact with Logan. Sexual tension had been replaced with regular, ordinary tension. She had so many questions, but lacked the ability to broach any of them in this moment. 

“See you then… maybe.” Was her acquiescing yet slightly defiant response, followed by a wave and her exit from the courtyard.

She sighed a breath of relief once she turned the corner, although she continued to feel a new weight of uncertainty on her shoulders as she walked back to her apartment. She’d counted on Logan, as old friend, to help her balance all of the new in her life—the new home, new school, new life. 

_But had she counted on him being single?_ A small voice asked in her head.

There was no easy answer to this question, besides acknowledging the fact that, no matter what she might have expected, she was shocked that he had a girlfriend. Though she had purposefully cut ties from their social world, putting literal distance between her and her family by going to California, she’d still stayed fairly up to date on gossip. Logan was not the type to settle down, from the anecdotes she’d heard. 

Truthfully, that was part of what had made parting ways and being away from him easier, viewing that their summer together had been an anomaly. It was easier to believe they’d had something that wouldn’t have existed in the real world; a fleeting feasibility possible only in their Martha’s Vineyard bubble created by the specific factors of that summer, of bother them being alone, with only each other as lifelines.

Like any other time she found herself undeniably nostalgic for their last summer together, her mind drifted toward the night that began the summer and the new chapter in their friendship.


	2. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before their first year in college, Bea and Logan find themselves stuck with their families all summer in Martha's Vineyard. Luckily, they discover they will have each other for company as well. As they meet each other at the start of the summer, it seems their friendship is on the brink of turning into something new.

_Setting: Four Years Earlier, Start of the Summer, Martha’s Vineyard, Logan’s Perspective_

“Logan Huntzberger, is that you?”

The inquisitive voice startled Logan. He’d just entered what he originally thought was an empty pool house, seeking a safe haven from the uptight, cocktail and hors d’oeuvres-wielding crowd at the main house. 

His initial survey of the interior of the pool house had revealed an odd assortment of spotless yet uncoordinated living room future—he imagined it was pieces from the last few years’ worth of furniture catalogues, shunted out to the pool house to make way for this year’s. He also noticed some dusty shelves stocked with pool-related items like noodles and floats, near a well-stocked (and far less dusty) liquor cabinet.

A more thorough glance revealed the back of a girl’s head on a couch near him. She must’ve first seen his reflection in the mirror above the liquor cabinet, which was currently capturing his dear-in-the-headlights expression. 

She had her hair in a pony tail. Not that any hair, besides his, really mattered to him. However, his first instinct in any situation was to discern if he was dealing with an acquaintance of his mother or father early on in the exchange. This pony tail was a welcome sign—certainly not the coiffed updo of the society dames he’d left behind in the main house.

He seemed to have taken too long to get ahold of his bearings. She turned around, throwing an arm on the back of the couch, then lifting her hand in a waving motion. The wave somehow managed to communicate her impatience.

Her face gave him an uncanny feeling—she was familiar, wasn’t she? 

“Don’t you remember me? After all, we’ve hid from plenty of our parents’ parties in this pool house before.” Now that she was facing him, he could see the sparkle in her eyes that backed her teasing tone.

Logan came around the couch she was sitting on and settled on the corner of the ottoman that her flipflopped feet rested on. He was careful not to disturb the precariously balanced sweaty glass of lemonade and upside-down novel also on the surface. She looked at him again, raising her eyebrows, waiting for his response.

Everything clicked in a moment, memories from many summers past falling into place.

“Bea.” He said simply, but his face reflected hers with a mischievous smile of his own that alluded to much of what he’d just remembered.

“Howdy neighbor!” Bea said, not missing a beat, now wearing an eager grin. 

She abruptly leaned forward, and for a split second Logan thought she was going to give him one of the overly-familiar hugs that his mother’s friends liked to give. Compared to the stiff handshakes from his father’s friends (or tests of gentlemanliness, as he thought of them), he was unsure which would make him more uncomfortable.

Her arm did brush his shoulder, but a quick glance revealed that she was simply rescuing the glass of lemonade that was leaning dangerously toward his thigh.

After draining the rest of the lemonade in a big gulp, she continued. 

“What brings you to Martha’s lovely Vineyard this summer? Or should I say, Martha’s Island of Vacation Homes? I’ve never seen any grape vines, have you? I can attest to the wine though! I’ve seen plenty of that around these parts, poured as frequently as water out of a faucet.”

Logan liked to believe he was a quick thinker, and while his memory had taken a moment to catch him up, he chalked that up simply to the element of surprise and being caught unawares. Now that he was up to speed, Bea’s energetic wittiness and chattiness rang true to his memories of her.

His family had owned the home next to the vacation fortress of Bea’s family’s, and in his successive childhood summers, Bea had played a prominent role. Their houses were surprisingly close for what people usually sought from the real estate here (Martha was known for providing secluded vacations, at a price). This had allowed the parents and children alike to traverse back and forth for social calls with ease. 

Bea and Logan were close in age and interests—whereas their siblings were either too young or old, thereby not offering desirable camaraderie. In their youngest summers, they passed the days with imaginary games on the waterfront or by the poolside, playing a variety of roles, such as pirates, detectives, and movie stars. 

Their most frequent game was the one in which they imitated their parents. They’d steal rocks and wine glasses, respectively, filled with whatever juice was available. They’d precede to turn their noses up to the sun and share invented neighborhood and Wallstreet gossip. One the rare occasion they’d let Bea’s younger brother join them, he would act as their butler or waiter; they’d tip him with dollar bills they’d slipped from their parents’ wallets earlier in the day.

As insular as their friendship often was, they did have a gaggle of friends that arrived every time their parents threw parties—which happened most weekends. These events, for the children, were fueled by the sugar highs of the desserts they stole from the caterers setting up in the kitchen, as well as the exhilaration of escaping the stifling environment of the grownups. The classic games reigned at these gatherings—tag, hide and seek, capture the flag, scavenger hunts. 

As they grew older, on the surface much about these summers remained the same—but often with a twist. Bea and Logan no longer actively played their make-believe games, but they engaged with the same fantasies and problems in long conversations by the pool or walks on the beach. As they began to take less interest in playing games outdoor, they would hole up in the air-conditioned pool house in front of the television or the desktop computer with an obscene amount of snacks and soda. 

Meanwhile, the behind-the-scenes gatherings at their parents’ parties continued, with slightly more risqué, rebellious elements. Truth or dare entered the scene, and at any point, someone was bound to push someone else into the pool and jump in after them, orchestrating a sudden pool party, soaking all party attire they’d been forced to wear by their parents.

Within their set—the offspring of Wallstreet tycoons, old money families, or major society or political figures—the innate sense of rebellion kicked in around seventh or eighth grade, on average. Something about the perceived stifling control from their parents or whatever private school they happened to attend at the time and the reality of puberty and teenage hormones resulted in mutiny. 

It wasn’t long after that tuning point into the teenage years that all kids tried to get out of these Martha’s Vineyard summers. They were viewed as stuffy and boring and best suited for their parents and other old people, the group that epitomized those qualities to them. 

As a result, it’d been years since Logan accompanied his family for any long range of time. Plus, by the time summer rolled around, he’d usually already been kicked out of his most recent school for some reason or another. Attempting to avoid his family when they were at their most angry and heated, he had motivation for getting away even more than attempting to avoid boredom.

Last summer he’d spent the month of July informally getting his pilot’s license. It was informal in the sense that no licensing process was actually involved. He’d been staying at his friend Archibald’s family estate, and Archie’s older cousin gave them lessons in his private plane. His cousin was an ass, but he had a pretty cool plane. The stay ended when Archie’s cousin crashed the plane into the warehouse they used to store their sports cars and golf carts—everyone was okay, Archie hadn’t even gotten the plane off the ground yet, but Logan hadn’t felt like sticking around after that.

After that incident, he’d come to stay with his family for a few weeks before the school year started. Bea hadn’t been here, though. If he recalled, she’d been at some book camp at Columbia. If Logan was adapt at using social situations to deflect from family time; she was equally talented at using her studies as a way to avoid family commitments.

 _What was the last summer they’d been here together, then?_ Logan mused. Well, that was probably the summer after eighth grade. 

It had been the most reckless and radical summer amongst their Martha’s cohort—and probably the reason their parents were so open to them being absent in future summers. Keeping their misbehaving children out of sight, out of mind, was easier than attempting to actually discipline them in person.

“Hey, earth to Logan!” Bea interrupted his reminiscing. She playfully lifted her foot from the ottoman and poked his shoulder with her foot. “Did you steal a bit too much champagne from the main house? Focus up! Catch up with your dear friend, Buzzin’ Bea.”

“And how much vodka did you use to spike that lemonade, Bumble-Bea?” Logan grabbed her ankle mischievously while responding to her question. “What’d you ask again? Oh right, what am I doing here? It’s the last summer before I go away to college, I thought some good old-fashioned family time could be nice.”

Bea rolled her eyes. “Wow, that sarcasm could be heard from the main house. What are you really doing here?”

“Well, I couldn’t stay away from you any longer, Bea.” Logan joked, flirtatiously, while letting her ankle fall back to the ottoman. It was in his nature to use flirtation and charm to get out of facing the truth head on. 

In this situation, the truth he was avoiding was the most recent incident in his life. He’d been caught stealing the statue of the school’s mascot from the courtyard with a group of classmates and accused of vandalism by the headmaster. Since this was his third? fourth? strike at the school, the potential disciplinary action had threatened his ability to graduate.

His father had intervened on the principle that it was unacceptable for his son’s graduation to be delayed. A phone call from his father had not been enough to solve the situation, however. Mitchum had actually had to fly in and appeal his son’s case in person. Naturally, his anger has been astronomically larger than normal. As a result, Logan had received a harsh edict to join the family this summer—and remain somewhat under his parents’ thumbs.

“No matter what brings you here, welcome to purgatory!” Bea said, throwing her arms up in a wide gesture to the rest of the pool house in a way that was intended to symbolize the rest of the island, Logan could only assume. Bea continued in the same breath, reminding Logan that she liked to rant on occasion. 

“It’s like purgatory because I have a sinking feeling that college isn’t actually going to arrive at the end of summer. We’re just going to be stuck here, forever, with our parents breathing down our necks. Or, at least, your parents will breath down your neck. Mine will probably forget I’m here. That’s why I moved out to the pool house for the summer, I thought I’d help them cease to think I exist more smoothly.”

Logan was now remembering that Bea’s joking, light-hearted energy could easily drift into the gloomier, moodier mediations on the darker sides of their lives. Logan liked to move quickly from incident to incident, leaving the rubble behind in his past. Bea in her angstiest moments liked to dwell and rouse up the rubble.

“Whoa, slow down there Bea!” Logan said, placing a comforting hand on her knee. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we apparently have plenty of summer days together to philosophize. And we’ll be busy having such a good time that I promise you, the first day of college will come too soon!”

His comment got a chuckle from her and seemed to diffuse the situation. She leaned back against the couch cushions, appearing far more relaxed. Logan became hyperaware of his hand still on her knee. He removed it, unsure where they currently stood. 

From his many sources (the girls he had dated throughout high school), he’d been given the impression that he had pretty smooth moves. Yet something about being near Bea reminded him that she had been there _before_ he’d completely developed his suave side.

In fact, she had firsthand proof of him as a fresh, inexperienced eighth-grader in an end-of-summer game of hide and seek that turned surprisingly heated.

They’d chosen the same hiding place—a storage shed. In one sense, the shed itself was quite warm because they’d shut the doors for effective hiding, trapping in the 90-degree summer heat with them. In another sense, tensions were also running high—Bea anger-whispered the accusation that Logan always copied her hiding spots and usually giving them away in the process.

Logan had shrugged silently, not willing to admit his guilt (because he really did copy her hiding spots). It was dark in the shed, so she couldn’t really see his reaction, but he guessed she felt it since they were practically pressed together in the small shed. At that moment, though, they heard shouts of “gotcha!” nearby. They both peered out of crack in the door to look—another hider had been captured from behind some bushes across the yard.

“They’re getting close!” Bea had murmured in hushed tones. 

Logan turned back to face her, and due to the close quarters, his lips brushed her cheek as he turned. He instantly experienced many things at once: his palms were sweaty, his cheeks hot, surely bright red, and his heartbeat audible, echoing against the silence in the shed. 

The next thing he felt was Bea’s lips on his. To this day, he couldn’t tell which of them had shifted forward to initiate this kiss. 

Truthfully, it was almost a picture-perfect first kiss. That is, until Logan knocked over a set of rakes and shovels behind Bea as he’d tried to wrap his arms around her. They sprung apart as the lawn tools clattered loudly to the ground. Before he knew it, Bea had run out, whispering over her shoulder that she was going to find a new hiding spot before the seeker came to investigate.

The bad luck Logan attributed to the unfortunate ending of the kiss continued when his parents came to collect him to head home before he got another chance to talk to Bea. Matters were made worse the next morning when his mother mentioned over breakfast that the Astors were heading back home that day. The summer quickly closed on his last chance to question Bea about what had happened and detect whether or not he’d be able to seek any further kisses with her.

He’d since kissed many girls, with far more success, but he would be lying if he said he never thought about his first kiss with Bea and regretted that there’d never been another.

Now, a more mature (and attractive) Bea sat across from him and he had the very belated opportunity to bring up that first kiss and raise the question of any future ones. Yet, he uncharacteristically found himself at a loss for words. 

“Sooo… you’re planning to be around this summer, then?” Bea asked, filling the silence after a moment.

Hearing the question, Logan had the feeling the simple question had greater meaning. He suspected she had, like him, been thinking of their last summer encounter together. Moreover, the question implied a potential commitment—to what exactly, he was unsure. Picking up where they had left off? 

“Well, I’ll probably want to come over because your family did always have the better pool.” Logan hedged.

He was instantly aware this was pretty much a lackluster, non-answer. If he’d been totally open with her, his response would have been something like: _I’ve been absolutely dreading this summer, and now that I realize you’ll be here, all I feel is relief and excitement right now._ What got in the way of expressing these thoughts was his preoccupation with the idea of kissing and the subconscious revulsion of commitment that had been forming in him in recent years.

His old habits had kicked in, and making him not want to appear too eager. If being around his parents had taught him anything, it was that life was about reserve, posturing, and a cultivating an appearance and impression. And if his school days had taught him anything, it was that he could use the same those same skills to be successful with girls. 

It felt supremely false as he put on that front with Bea, though. He wasn’t totally sure how to fix that, so he simply added, “Yeah. I’ll be around.” 

If his response had been a letdown, Bea didn’t show it. She nodded, and after a pause, asked if he wanted to watch whatever was on the TV with her while they waited out the rest of the party. Grateful for the distraction, Logan agreed quickly.

He joined her on the couch and they sat shoulder to shoulder, in comfortable silence, very reminiscent of their past summer days. This time around though, he barely registered what program was on the screen. All Logan could think about was the space where their shoulders touched. 

When he later left the pool house to head home with his parents, he found him preoccupied again, thinking of past and present Bea, and the prospects of seeing her again in the coming days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll normally post a new chapter about once a week, but I was excited to give everyone a sense of what the alternating time periods/POVs would be like, hence this new chapter only a few days after the first. Hope you enjoyed :)


	3. A Week Later...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since Bea and Logan encountered each other, and no sight of Logan. Tensions rise when the Huntzbergers come over to the Astors' for dinner. Another chapter in the summer at Martha's Vineyard time period -- this time from Bea's perspective!

_Setting: The Summer, a Week Later, Martha’s Vineyard, Bea’s Perspective_

“Beatrice, how many times do I need to tell you that flip flops are not acceptable footwear for supper in the formal dining room?”

As was the case whenever she heard a command from her mother, Bea immediately ran through a list of possible retorts in her head: _“At least 11 more times,”_ or, _“My feet will be under the table—who cares?”_ She was no creative writer, but she liked to think sarcastic quips directed at her mother were her artistic forte. 

She never sought out glaring moments of rebellion like smoking in a school bathroom, shoplifting sunglasses, or getting something pierced or tattooed. Hers was a war of passive rebellion—not brushing her hair, wearing a sweatshirt instead of a cardigan, flip flops instead of a pair of sensible pumps. While these methods would be subtle—or imperceptible—to most onlookers, to her mother, they were like a big, glaring middle finger.

Her mother lived her life in a public way, dictated by the ubiquitous rules and manners of high society. Everything was to be in its place at all times—including her daughter. Rather than abandoning her assigned place completely, which would require far more active resistance, up until this point, Bea chose to relinquish herself to remaining where she was supposed to be—with a few adjustments.

“Okay,” was Bea’s actual response. At face value, it was an innocent response—which was just what she hoped for, so that it would add to the dramatic effect of her next moves. 

She took a few steps forward into the dining room. After each step, she kicked off a flip flop, one by one. They scattered around the legs of the table near her little brother, Willy, who omitted a few giggles. 

“No flip flops for me!” Bea declared, tossing herself into the chair next to Willy in a way that she hoped her mother would associate with the dreaded “flopping” motion.

“Beatrice.” Exasperation filled her mother’s tone; her face sunk into a grimace. At the sound of the doorbell, it turned to a look of panic, and frenzied desperation filled her voice as she added, “For heavensake, put the shoes back on. The Huntzbergers are here. If Mitchum and Shira enter the dining room to find flip flops on the floor, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain _that_.”

Bea felt a wave of panic pass over her at the utterance of the Huntzbergers. _Logan_ was coming to dinner? She hadn’t heard from Logan since their reunion a week ago, despite him saying he’d, in his words, “be around.” 

At the time, she’d perceived that his answer had been very non-committal. It’s not like they had pulled out their day planners and scheduled an afternoon tea on Wednesday. No—there’d been no official agreement for when she could expect to see Logan again. 

Besides, she herself had been very nonchalant about her inquiry into his summer plans. She could have invited him over the next afternoon for a pool day, or in a couple days for a movie night, but she hadn’t been bold enough to ask him openly to come back.

Now she was glad she hadn’t—what if she had invited him back, only for him to not show? She’d heard that he was a bit of a ladies man at all the different private schools he’d been to. A friend told her that _she_ had a friend who went to a formal dance with Logan, and he’d been to three other school formals with three different girls that season already. It was rumored that one of those dates included getting caught in a compromising position in the back of the limo by a faculty member. 

Despite the gossip, that’s not the impression Bea had from their interaction. If anything, he reminded her of the younger Logan she’d been familiar with. Something about talking to someone who shared her acne and braces days had been comforting, rather than embarrassing. That shared ground meant something… right? 

The days absolutely dragged by after that first night. Her summer days had already been slow—she had voluntarily exiled herself to the pool house, but that didn’t mean that her novel-reading and TV-watching solitude didn’t get lonely and dull. It beat being in the main house, though, where her solitude would have only been amplified. Her mother stuck to her bedroom, unless she had guests. Her little brother did the same, playing video games all hours of the day. Her father was in the city most week days, but if he was there, he would be in his study answering endless phone calls.

Bea tried to tell herself that she wasn’t looking for signs of Logan at every opportunity. The first couple days, she told herself to not expect him because it was so soon. After that, though, she began to grow expectant. 

She didn’t want to admit it, but she had started to daydream about the ways that they could survive the summer together. For example, she had this day dream a few days ago as she looked out the window of the pool house. 

_Her and Logan sat poolside, both of them engrossed in riveting conversation. At some point they would disagree, and someone would end up being playfully pushed in the pool. Then, the remaining person would be pulled by the ankles into the pool, protesting. Splashing and dunking would ensue, and one thing would lead to another…_

Part of this daydream had been inspired by her interest of seeing what Logan looked like in a swimsuit now. She would never openly admit to this, but hey—she was only human.

She inwardly shook her head at herself. With each passing day that he didn’t show up, the daydreams started to seem a lot more like foolish than realistic. The vision smarted now—she wasn’t sure what hurt more, having her hopes dashed or pride docked. 

As she went to collect her flip flops, she was completely aware of her primary feeling in this moment: embarrassment. She’d allowed herself to wholly want something, and Logan had essentially rejected her—probably without a second thought. 

_He must’ve become an asshole in the last four years_. Bea thought to herself determinedly. It was easier to transfer her helpless feelings of hurt to those of resentment and anger. These were forces she could openly direct at him without having to express the far more vulnerable emotions. 

That’s why when she found herself sitting opposite Logan at the dining table moments later, she silently sulked, staring at her plate, rather than making eye contact with him.

It turned out her mother had arranged the meal-that-never-ends version of supper tonight. Bea did her best to pointedly ignore Logan throughout the appetizer, soup, and fish courses. An unintended consequence of this silence was that it gave Bea far too much time to allow angry thoughts to constantly bubble to the surface in her mind.

_Why had he ignored her? Did he think he was too cool for her now? Did he even realize she was giving him the cold shoulder right now? What if he didn’t even care?_

By the time the main course rolled around, Bea felt like she surely resembled a cartoon character with steam coming out her ears and off the top of her head. 

Meanwhile, Logan was cool as a cucumber, keeping up the performative small talk everyone else at the table had been participating in throughout the meal.

Bea tuned in to the conversation in time to hear her mother ask, “Logan, didn’t your last school have a Michelin star chef prepare the meals? How does this food compare?”

“You could’ve told me a chef with multiple Michelin stars prepared this dinner! My chicken is fantastic, Mrs. Astor. But you know what, I’d love to have some more of that plum sauce. Could you pass the dish, Bea?”

“Sure, the dish will _be around_ , Logan.” Beatrice responded sullenly, looking up finally, to glare at Logan openly.

“Sorry, what?” He asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

“I told you, Logan, _it’ll be around_. In other words, the dish will show up, eventually—but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

This response seemed to click in Logan’s mind, and he looked slightly flustered.

“Beatrice! I have no idea what you’re saying—politely pass the dish to our guest, please.” Her mother snapped. For her, that was a stunning display of a private family conflict. She might as well have shouted at Bea to go to her room—disciplining of any kind was a level of drama that she usually avoided out in the open. 

“Fine, of course. I’d hate to make someone _wait around for nothing_.” Bea countered back, at this point of her frustration beyond total control of her actions. “Here, Logan, have some more plum sauce.” She said forcefully, pushing the dish forward. 

Although she had not consciously intended it, her hands matched her forceful tone and pushed the dish with a lot more momentum than necessary. As a result, the dish crashed into Logan’s plate, dumping the sauce and his remaining meal down his front. On top of that, the motion had caused Bea’s elbow to knock into her water glass; ice water spilled onto her plate and cascaded onto her lap.

Her mother practically jumped up from her seat, completely aghast. “Beatrice! I swear, I have no idea what’s gotten into you tonight.” Beatrice took little notice of her mother, keeping her eyes on Logan, who was looking back at her in total shock. “Take Logan to the kitchen right away, you doused his pristine cashmere sweater in plum sauce!”

“Happily. I’d hate to hurt the cashmere’s feelings.” Beatrice pushed her chair back loudly, turning to head for the kitchen without looking back or waiting for Logan.

As she crossed into the hallway leading to the kitchen, she felt a hand around her wrist, pulling her backward. She spun around quickly, nearly losing her balance. She automatically reached out to steady herself, finding her hand on Logan’s chest. Gathering her bearings, she noticed Logan had a smile on his face—after all _that_? 

_That’s just irksome_. Bea grumbled internally.

“I love an excuse to get out of a glacial dinner more than anyone, but that was even a bit extreme for me.” Seeing Logan up close, smiling and joking like this, almost put out the fiery anger in her. But enough embers remained.

She snatched away her hand, then, thinking twice, used it to poke him accusingly in the chest.

“You were supposed to come over. I’ve been alone all week! This place sucks, you of all people know that. You all but promised, then you broke that promise with no word! You’re such a…” Here, Bea faltered, losing steam at the pivotal moment.

“Oh, what am I, do tell!” Logan exclaimed, while still keeping his cool composure. _His eyes are freaking sparkling with amusement, for godsake,_ thought Bea. This was annoying enough in and of itself, and encouragement for her frustrations to complete her earlier sentence.

“An absolute asshole!” 

Logan had been waiting in anticipation, and at her response, a slow grin spread across his face.

“Is this funny to you?” Bea questioned heatedly. “You know what, I don’t need this, you can find the kitchen on your own, I’m outta here.” 

She pushed past him, planning to storm far away from this infuriating person.

“Wait! Come back, Bea, I can explain actually everything.” Logan called after her. 

She stopped and turned around, eyebrows raised, arms crossed, fully expecting him to offer some smooth excuses. 

“I couldn’t come over because of my dad.” Logan said in a softer voice as he closed the distance between them again. He stopped about a foot away (closer than most people would…), checking to see if he had her attention before continuing. “He forced me to shadow him in New York all week long. I was a horrible disappointment to him. We got back late last night. The only plus side, by the way, is that he all but fired me. He’s not taking me with him on Monday.”

This new information shed important light on the situation of the past week. The abrupt clarity it provided was as shocking as the ice water had been a moment ago.

“Well, why didn’t you say so sooner?” Bea cried, an even mixture of exasperated and embarrassed. “I would’ve…”

“You would’ve what? Not attacked me with the plum sauce?” Logan teased. 

“I would’ve not made a total fool of myself.” Bea said, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her forehead abashedly for a moment.

“Well, I forgive you, people do foolish things for love.” Logan grabbed her shoulder in a classic consoling fashion, jolting her back to attention. He made eye contact, with an overly-serious face on that made Bea know anything he’d say next would be in total jest.

“Well, I forgive you, people do foolish things for love.” Logan said, as a smirk threatened to break free on his lips and betray his supposedly serious façade.

“Oh, shut up—I’m not even totally sure if I like you right now.” Bea retorted, batting his hand away.

“You must like me, Bea!” Logan now had a humorously pleading tone, catching her hand between both of his, doing his best to appear totally earnest. 

As he caught her rolling her eyes, Logan changed his approach. “Well, you have to like me at least a little, if you were _that_ mad when you thought I stood you up.” Logan countered.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Logan. I know I liked you in eighth grade, but the jury’s still out on this older version.”

“Please, I for one am not even convinced you liked me in eighth-grade—you ran away from our kiss and I never heard from you again! You are the one that stood me up originally!”

This thought had not occurred to Bea. She would normally have prepared another sarcastic remark to defend her supposed hypocrisy to continue the banter, but she found herself thrown off and that her mouth had gone a bit dry at the memory of their first kiss.

So he remembered that too… and he was thinking about it right now… at this moment. 

_Is it just me, or are the walls closing in and the temperature rising, the hallway becoming the size and temperature of the shed?_ Bea wondered. _No, that’s just me getting hot and bothered and involuntarily leaning toward Logan? Oh, okay._

“Well—” Bea cleared her throat, nervous, trying to string together a proper series of words. “About—uh—running away. I was afraid you’d laugh at me for kissing you like that.”

Logan was looking at her intently, but remained silent. Little did she know that she’d blown him away with this previously unspoken knowledge—that she’d been the one to start the kiss and her fears of being judged had been the primary motivator in holding her back.

She looked back at him in the silence, shouting internally, _say something, Logan! Open your mouth and say something_! Bea shouted at Logan in her head. 

Okay, really, at this point she was just staring at his face. His perfectly proportioned face… with the tousled blonde hair (which, to be honest, looked better than hers), deep brown eyes, soft looking lips… _stop looking at his lips! Pull it together!_

“So I’m sorry. If I could go back, I’d do things differently.” Bea continued, in a soft voice, wanting to fill the silence, antsy and hyperaware of his still intent gaze. “I wouldn’t run again.” She added, at this point, her voice at a whisper.

They were standing mere inches away at this point, but Bea still didn’t see it coming when Logan kissed her. 

One second he was staring at her, listening to her ramble on, the next, his lips were on hers. 

She couldn’t have known that, the whole time she’d been telling herself not to be creepy by checking him out, he’d actually been wondering if it would be appropriate to kiss her now, knowing that she’d been the original one to kiss him in the first place.

He had moved quickly, but his lips pressed against hers gently with a light touch at first. She kissed him back, surprised, but without hesitation. She instinctively moved her hand to the nape of his neck, pulling him inward. He slid his arm around her waist with his palm on the small of her back, and she relaxed into the increasing pressure of his arms and lips.

She slightly opened her mouth, ready to take this kiss beyond what they had accomplished at that eighth-grade level—

“Excuse me, I heard voices—oh Ms. Bea!” 

Bea jerked away from Logan instantly at the sound of the housekeeper’s startled and curious voice. The kiss was over as quickly as it began and both culprits put multiple feet between their bodies.

“Gerta, we had a spill at dinner, so my mom sent us to you. Could we get some towels, please?” Bea managed to get out, avoiding eye contact. 

Gerta paused, looking between both of them, likely evaluating her appropriate response. She was akin to a parental figure for Bea and was likely deliberating whether or not she should scold the young adults for the affectionate scene.

“Oh yes, I see, you both spilled the plum sauce on yourselves. Follow me.” She responded after her moment of deliberation, deciding in favor of discretion that was so often an unspoken cardinal rule expected by wealthy employers like the Astors. The things Gerta had seen in her line of work—Bea’s kiss with a boy her age was hardly anything next to those scenes.

Meanwhile, Bea herself looked down in confusion because Logan had been the one with the dark purple stain on the beloved cashmere. She now noticed that she had a slightly fainter stain on her front, corresponding to the one on Logan’s midriff.

As she connected the dots herself, a blush came to her cheeks, and she stole a glance at Logan behind the Gerta’s back. She pointed at the stain on her shirt, then at his, in silent accusation. He grinned, playfully wrapping an arm around her, squeezing her shoulders, then dropping it to his side before the housekeeper caught them again.

Gerta had them cleaned and sent back in no time. She chaperoned their walk back to the dining room, cutting off any chance for a conversation about their kiss.

The rest of the dinner went by like a breeze, even the usually stifling dessert and coffee course, as Bea’s mind was preoccupied, running through her daydreams—she now had to update them with some new, enticing ideas based on their encounter in the hallway.

She actually followed her parents to the foyer for the formal goodbye to the Huntzbergers, waving goodbye, off in her own blissful world, confidently thinking to herself that Logan would _definitely_ be around now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those that have followed, given kudos, and reviewed—it means so much!   
> Instead of making Chapter Three back at Yale in the present day, I wanted to get to this scene… you can probably tell why 😊 But for those of you wondering how Logan will react to Bea being at Yale now… Chapter Four is gonna be especially for you!


	4. Logan's Week of Trials and Tribulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so began a week of trials and tribulations for Logan. This chapter takes up seconds after Bea left Rory and Logan in the courtyard at Yale!

_Setting: Present Day, Monday (the same day), Logan’s Perspective_

And so began a week full of trials and tribulations for Logan.

As Logan watched Bea’s retreating back, with a million questions of his own running through his head, he knew he’d be fielding questions about her all week long. 

“Who was that?” Rory asked. 

And so it began.

Rory’s expression seemed mostly curious, but there was some underlying accusation in her tone as well. Her face in this moment gave him an uncomfortable flashback to her confronting him about his date at Richard and Emily’s vow renewals. _That_ had been something worth confronting—although Rory had been slightly off mark in her suspicions that he was trying to make her jealous, in reality, Logan had brought a date to try and keep himself distracted from pursuing Rory. That hadn’t turned out quite like he expected—but, hey, it worked out for them in the end.

But Logan hadn’t been up to any of his old tricks lately. Though Logan couldn’t totally blame Rory for having her doubts—he’d entered the relationship with a reputation so notorious that it couldn’t dissipate from memory easily. However, once he found himself committing to her of his own volition, he’d been pleasantly surprised how easy it was to remain faithful to Rory. Like he’d told her at the reception: she was special to him.

This brought him to the debacle of his current moment: how best to explain to his current girlfriend that the only _other_ girl who had been special to him had suddenly appeared in his life again? He himself was still processing Bea’s appearance and what it meant, which was in turn bringing up memories from their past that he hadn’t thought about in too long. It put him in a real bind when it came to synthesizing all of this information into a single answer for Rory at this moment.

Maybe it was best to downplay the situation. He wasn’t one to word-vomit, after all—that was not his style.

“The short answer is Bea’s an old family friend. I’ve known her since I was a kid, but we were pretty close at one point, shortly before college. We were pretty well-acquainted with one another at that time, if you catch my drift.” He noticed Rory’s eyes narrow at this and decided it was best to steer immediately away from that course. “Ace, don’t be mad—that was years ago, and I haven’t seen her since. You just witnessed the first I’ve seen of her in years.”

These words seemed to clear Rory’s frown, though Logan thought he saw lingering doubt in her eyes. 

He swept her in for a quick kiss, hoping to cure her uncertainty with some nonverbal communication. As he pulled away, he maintained eye contact, and said confidently, “There’s no need to worry, Ace. Now c’mon, I want to show you my new apartment.” 

As they walked out of the courtyard hand-in-hand, Logan had the nagging thought that his confidence was a coverup for the fact that he himself needed some convincing. 

Things had been relatively steady in his life, right? He’d had a classic European summer trip full of shenanigans with Colin and Finn, now he was back, ready to progress with Rory and see what sort of Life and Death Brigade adventures and parties the school year would hold.

But Bea’s appearance was potentially disruptive to all of these things—he almost felt like he was a different Logan now than the one she had known four years ago. How would she fit into this his life now? He felt unsteady with the knowledge that he had no idea what was going to happen.

* * *

_Tuesday_

Tuesday night found him a few beers in at The Pub, fielding questions from Colin and Finn.

This was the most recent question: “Logan, tell me—did I hear you say ‘ _Astor’_ when you introduced the lovely Beatrice?”

“Yes, Finn. She’s an Astor.” Logan sighed, exasperated, simultaneously signaling the bartender with a hand gesture to communicate he wanted—more accurately, _needed_ —to order another.

“But her family has even more money than yours, Logan!” Colin burst in, with a comically stunned face. “You know what they say. There’s money, then there’s Huntzberger money, _then_ there’s Astor money.”

“The ruling class… the monarchy—nay, the Gods—of New York.” Finn said with a sincerely reverent look on his face.

“If you got to know Bea, you’d know that’s not her.” Logan figured it best to shatter their dream-like expectations of Bea early on.

“She is the most eligible bachelorette in all of the land, so I would love to get to know her.” Colin responded eagerly. But then, in a single stroke, a dejected look came over him. “But I have my barmaid to think about…” he added sadly.

The group had recently returned from a trip to Europe in which Colin had found himself madly in love with a barmaid. Unfortunately, the love had not traveled back to the U.S. in one piece, and Colin found himself looking after—not so successfully—a young woman who did not speak much English.

“I’ve recently re-dedicated myself to my quest to bring Rosemarie home since returning stateside, so I’m unfortunately not available to court Ms. Astor either.” Finn said.

“You assume two things: first, that she is single, and two, that she would ever be interested in the likes of you two.” Logan admonished them—all in good fun, of course.

“Well, she was interested in the likes of you. We blokes are not so different!” Colin protested.

This gave Logan pause. He felt he himself could not assume either thing he had pointed out: really, he didn’t know if Bea was single. But more importantly, he couldn’t assume she would be interested in the likes of him right now. She’d known him four years ago—she’d known a different Logan. Would she be interested in being his friend now? In being friends with the likes of his friends? 

Logan internally groaned. Fielding endless questions from Colin and Finn was bad enough—he didn’t need to field additional questions of his own.

“Look at us. I have my renewed quest for Rosemarie, Colin has his barmaid, and Logan has his two ladies.”

“Bea is _not_ my lady.” Logan replied in a strained tone.

“So you remain committed to your strange interest in this perverse experiment of monogamy!” Colin exclaimed, loudly, drawing a few curious glances from people near them in the bar.

“Yes—and I’m committed to finishing this beer and then escaping the two of you for the night.” Logan wearily responded as he accepted the much-needed new beer from the bartender. 

* * *

_Wednesday_

Things took a turn for the worse when Logan saw his father’s contact information appear on his cell phone’s caller ID.

Whenever he saw the words “Mitchum Huntzberger” he had to fight the urge to throw his phone out the nearest window and run. The cost would not be too steep; after all, he could afford a new phone, but the reward would be minimally low. The amount of time he would buy himself would be minimal compared to how his father’s annoyance would rise each minute he felt he was being ignored.

After a few rings, Logan steeled his nerves and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Did you meet with your academic advisor?” In lieu of a greeting, his father cut straight to the chase. His voice was impatient and loud, even over the relatively low quality speakers of Logan’s cellphone.

He felt it best not to beat around the bush given his father’s brisk manner of conducting business—even with his own son. “Yes, she informed me the two of you had spoken. So much for FERPA and student privacy, right?”

“I’ve paid your tuition, helped the Yale Daily News stay afloat, and our family has funded a building or two on campus—I think I have the right to inquire about my son’s academic records.”

_That’s a long way of saying, I’m Mitchum Huntzberger and I get whatever I want at whatever cost._ Logan thought to himself bitterly. “She gave me the impression you had demanded—rather than inquired—that I graduate by the end of the year. She seemed a little pissed.” Logan responded.

He heard an frustrated sigh on the other end of the line before his father answered him. “I simply made it clear that it was in the best interests of everyone—yours, Yale’s, mine, the family’s—that you graduate by the end of the year. I’ve been assured if you pass all your classes this year, you’ll have enough credits to graduate.”

“I didn’t realize you thought it was possible that I could ever do something to benefit the company.” Logan replied, his voice dripping with cynicism.

He’d once told Rory that for his father to be truly disappointed in her, her name would have to be “Logan.” It turns out he’d been slightly wrong about that—he hadn’t predicted that his father would bully Rory like he had—but he did still hold it as truth his name was synonymous with disappointment in his father’s mind.

His father ignored his disgruntled attitude and continued on with his business. Logan had a clear idea of how he got his way in business deals and with his employees—that was the same curt way he treated his son as well. 

“That’s going to change by the end of the year. It’s time to clean up your act, Logan. Time to grow up and become a Huntzberger. You’re going to attend shareholder meetings and start to contribute to the company and this family.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Logan said lifelessly.

After he hung up, Logan felt a leaden weight in his stomach. The past years of his life had been defined by his efforts to escape this command—so much of his motivation to misbehave was attempting to get out of his familial responsibilities. If he was too busy galivanting around the world, throwing parties, seeing girls, his family responsibilities might not be able to catch up with him.

It wasn’t that he had a total disregard for responsibility—after all, his commitment to Rory was a recent example of what he was capable of. It’s just that he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, what he wanted to be. Instead of spending time thinking about that, he’d been busy being in denial about what he felt forced into: becoming a company man alongside—or, more likely, in the shadow of—his father.

What other option did he have? Even with all the relative freedom in the world Logan had, to live life without any impunities basically, at the end of the day he existed at the wills and whims of his father. And now his father had come to collect and Logan was incapable of saying no. 

He found himself driving to the Gilmore’s to see Rory in a melancholy-filled blur. She would understand what facing the wrath of his father felt like. 

But when he arrived at the house he was unpleasantly surprised to see a driveway full of expensive cars, and as he entered the house, he was quite dismayed to see a gaggle of old women going on about salmon puffs. Rory was in the midst of them, making small talk as effortlessly as Emily Gilmore herself would have in this scene.

Logan had two prevailing thoughts as he observed this spectacle: _Since when did Rory host D.A.R events?_ And, _Shit. What was the proper escape route?_

Normally, he’d have been able to charm old women better than most college-aged boys could. He was a skilled conversationalist; what made him accomplished was his ability to discuss in their language—if he could reveal a few comments about tennis, salmon puffs, and what not, the quicker he could get out of the situation. Today, however, he was in a foul mood and found himself at a loss for words when Rory attempted to introduce him to some of the women she was talking to. Luckily, she quickly accepted that he was not in the mood and sent him to the relative safety of the pool house.

Now that he had escaped successfully, Logan’s mind returned to his original question. There was something about seeing Rory at the center of a D.A.R gathering that made him feel uneasy. Had living at the Gilmores’ sucked her into that world, that quickly? Or was it not really the Gilmores, but _him_ , that was to blame?

Not for the first time since they’d gotten arrested for the yacht-stealing incident, Logan began to worry about the influence he’d had on Rory.

To be clear, _she_ had been the mastermind behind the theft of the yacht. But would she have had that idea before she met Logan? Before she got involved in his world, the world in which actions didn’t seem to have consequences? Plus, it had been traumatic contact with his father that had sent her to the tipping point.

He’d been doing his best to stay optimistic as he observed the fallout of the yacht incident. He had to admit, many things concerned him. He worried about Rory dropping out of school, pursuing what Colin and Finn described as the sloth life. At one point, Logan had been the “king of the sloths.” Had that rubbed off on Rory? Would she ever go back to Yale? She wasn’t like him; she loved school! Not to mention—she actually loved her mother and had a close relationship with her, unlike Logan and his parents. Seeing them estranged was distressing, to say the least.

And now she was hosting D.A.R parties? The Rory that was happy hosting a D.A.R party was not the Rory he’d first met—someone who valued education Yale offered to the level of obsession. He was not convinced this version of Rory was the _real_ Rory, but he was pretty sure that _this_ Rory was convinced she was the real Rory.

He was new to being a boyfriend, let alone being a good boyfriend, but he felt it was important to support her in her endeavors, whatever they might be. After all, if he really had been a bad influence on her in the last year, it’d be best to keep his influence to a minimum now.

_This is far too much stress for one day—I need a distraction._ Logan had barely finished the thought before he was dialing the perfect solution—Finn and Colin’s phone numbers. Mind-numbing entertainment would shortly be on its way.

* * *

_Thursday_

He was heading to class, as per his father’s orders, but found himself running late. He didn’t have the most practice at regularly attending class. However, if he’d learned anything from his observations from Rory, it was that coffee was necessary to completing any school-related task.

He decided to go to the courtyard coffee cart due to its proximity to his classroom. He got to the front of the line, ready to quickly put in his order and make a beeline for the building he needed, when—

“Bea?” He asked, shocked.

This time around, he wasn’t shocked to see Bea at Yale. Obviously, he knew she was a student there now. But he had no idea that she was a _coffee cart employee_? Yet, clearly, with his eyes, he saw she was standing behind the cart with the employee polo shirt. Still, his mind couldn’t register why Bea would be working at a coffee cart.

Like Colin had pointed out, the Astors had even more money than the Huntzbergers. In what world did Bea need to work at a coffee cart?

Someone cleared their throat loudly behind him, plainly insinuating he was holding up the line. He realized he hadn’t even ordered yet.

“Could I get a large coffee?” Logan asked, ordering on auto-pilot, still processing what was happening.

On her end, while Bea had initially seemed surprised to see him in line, her face now seemed more bemused than anything else. She was holding herself together a lot more than he was, at least. How many more times was she going to throw him off his usually steady game within the mere span of a few days?

“That will be two dollars.” She replied, filling the cup as she spoke. He handed her a five dollar bill and told her to keep the change. She raised her eyebrows but didn’t protest, adding the extra dollars to the tip jar.

He stepped to the side as the person behind him ordered, paid, and received their coffee. There was a lull in line. At this point, Bea turned her attention to him and didn’t see surprised to see him still standing there.

He opened his mouth, ready to ask any number of pressing questions, the foremost being: _why are you working at a coffee cart?_ But Bea raised her hand in a “stop” motion before he could begin.

“Before you ask—yes, I’m working at the coffee cart.” Bea said. “I actually got the idea the other day when I saw you. Before seeing you, I’d just noticed the hiring sign. I came back the next morning. I had no job experience whatsoever, so they really took a leap of faith in hiring me.”

“But— _why_?” 

“I need the money.” Bea said simply.

He nodded silently, processing this information. He knew she was purposely leaving out crucial details of the story, but he also knew the courtyard coffee cart probably wasn’t the best place to press her for more information.

“Oh, you should also know—” Bea continued, blazing forward, “I also have a job at the library in the afternoons. I’m warning you so that on the slim chance you come to check out a book, you won’t have a heart attack.”

He could tell that she was messing with him now, in the way that they liked to tease and joke with each other in a knowing way. He wasn’t able to joke around with her though, because his mind was racing. _Two jobs? Everyone like them would maybe work a total of two jobs in their lifetimes—and Bea had two? At once? During college_?

“I have so many questions, Bea.” Was all Logan could bring himself to say in response to this information. 

“And I have so many loyal customers.” Bea responded, gesturing to the few people that had queued up at the cart during this short—but mind-boggling—conversation.

“You’ll come to the party tomorrow?” Logan asked, suddenly feeling the need to secure a chance to ask her the many questions that had been boiling in his mind. The fact that he had so many new questions—a coffee cart and library employee?—made the need even more exigent to him.

After a pause in which she seemed to be deliberating her options, Bea responded in the affirmative. “Sure. Time and place?”

“The Pub, at 8. Give or take. See you then.”

Logan was at least ten minutes late to his class, and the class was halfway over before he remembered to take a sip of his coffee, which was ice cold at that point. As he walked out of the class, he couldn’t have told someone what the topic was to save his life. The entire time, in his head, he was imagining what himself at The Pub tomorrow night—but, unlike his last visit, this time he’d be the one with the questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Consider giving kudos and reviewing if you did 😊
> 
> In this chapter, you might recognize that I played around with some scenes that actually happened in the early episodes of S6! I had to mess just a bit with the timeline to make it flow with the plans I already had for this chapter. (For example, in the show, Logan invites Colin and Finn to the Gilmore pool house and says he hadn't seen them since they got back from Europe—but in this story, as you know, he'd been with them already.)


	5. Questions Asked and Answered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bea meets Logan, Rory, Colin, and Finn at The Pub on Friday night. Bea and Logan finally get the chance to ask each other some burning questions.

_Setting: Present Day, Friday, Yale, Bea’s Perspective_

Though it might have been off to a rough start, Bea’s first week at Yale had been surprisingly successful. She easily fell into a rhythm: working the early shift at the coffee cart, going to classes, working a few hours at the library in the afternoon, then going back to her apartment to do homework. Rinse and repeat.

She was now curious to establish a weekend pattern: not scheduled to work, and with minimal homework from the first week of classes, the next couples days were wide open to her. 

_Well, not completely free_ , she corrected herself. The party she’d agreed to attend tonight was the only shadow on her otherwise bright, promising weekend. She was nervous to encounter Logan, Rory, and the others again—and, in general, she hadn’t been to a “college party” in over a year. 

She was experiencing a fair amount of trepidation as she entered “The Pub.” Everyone around her appeared to be the slightly more mature version of the kids she’d gone to high school with. They had a distinctly subtle, yet perceptible, way of wearing and carrying their wealth. 

They might wear sweaters and jeans, like the average college-goer, but their brands appeared in fashion week. They might drink the dollar beers on special for the quaint experience, but the credits cards they used to pay could afford thousands and thousands of beers at that cost. At the end of the night, as they stumbled out of the bar, instead of grabbing a cab, they’d have their own hired drivers get them where they needed to be—sometimes that was home, more often than not, an exclusive club was their next destination.

Needless to say, Bea felt like an imposter as she waded through the crowd. Outside, she might have looked the part; still, inside, she knew she’d worked two shift and spent her off time studying that day. 

It was slow going attempting to find a familiar face among the throng, so she pushed her way through to the busy bar instead. Having a drink in hand would make the search more tolerable, at least. Plus, worse-case scenario, it was a good way to fill the time until she could escape to the quiet solitude of her apartment.

She ordered the dollar beer special, which, for her, was less based on preference and more for frugality’s sake only. She surveyed the tables nearest her as she waited for the bartender to hand her the bottle. 

“Beatrice, love, over yonder!”

Well. Hearing that voice and strange word choice signaled to her that Finn must be nearby. She turned to her left, toward the sound of the call, and noticed Finn several feet away, with Colin at his side, flagging her down with wildly wide arm motions. Staying clear of the flying limbs were Logan and Rory, standing across them on the other side of a tall table.

Bea silently waved at them, acknowledging her attention had been successfully caught. She turned back to the bar just in time for the bartender to set her drink down in front of her. She nodded her thanks, leaving two dollars on the counter, collected herself with a slow, deep breath, before heading over to join the group.

Multiple people were animatedly talking at once when Bea arrived at the table. Just a second ago, she’d looked over at a relatively stable scene. Now, Finn looked upset, Colin fired up, Rory excited, and Logan bemused.

“Hi guys, what’s up?” Bea greeted them in mildly curious confusion.

“I just won a bet that Rosemarie would turn Finn down tonight. She’s just phoned and confirmed this.” Rory explained cheerfully. _Ah, so that explains Finn’s expression_ , Bea thought. “And now Colin has to buy the next round, because he’s the one I made the bet with.” Rory added. _And that explains Colin’s_.

“I already had to deal with sending a tearful milkmaid back to Europe today, and now this? A tarnished gambling record? I’m devastated.” Colin informed her. Whether or not he was actually bothered, he did look convincingly depressed at the moment.

Colin shook his head and seemed to collect himself. “But a man must persevere! And another round of drinks helps him get there. So, a vodka soda for Rory, Macallan neat for Logan, whisky, no ice, and a splash of Coke for Finn, tequila for me—to drink away my hurt pride… and what are you drinking tonight Bea?”

“Oh, I just got a drink.” Bea protested politely, raising her beer up as evidence.

“Nonsense! Another. And I think I’ll need some assistance carrying these back to the table.”

Finn and Rory simultaneously volunteered their services. Not wanting to be the odd one out, Bea felt compelled to offer as well. 

“No, no, you stay and keep Logan company.” Colin insisted. “Old friends must catch up, right?”

If Logan had been involved in this exchange, she might have suspected there was a scheme going on—getting her alone to corner her with the questions he’d mentioned the other day at the coffee cart. But he seemed innocent of orchestrating shenanigans tonight. Logan hadn’t said much to anyone—let alone her—since she’d arrived. The silence continued as they watched the parting backs of the boys and Rory.

“We used to purposefully avoid the main party together, and now here we are, accidentally left by ourselves.” Bea said, filing the silence somewhat nervously. Silence between them had once been comfortable (though not frequent, since they were both talkers). Now they both seemed full of nerves and at a loss for words.

“A lot has changed in three years, Bea.” Logan said slowly. She began to uneasily peel back the sweaty logo on her beer. “I’ve changed.” He added meaningfully, and she noticed her glance shifted over to Rory’s direction at the busy bar. He looked back after a moment, sizing Bea up. “You’ve changed too, I can tell.”

“Can I ask you question?” Bea blurted out nowhere with a sudden surge of boldness. Or awkwardness. Or both.

“If you accept the conditions of my counter—that I get a question of my own.” Logan said, now with a knowing grin on his face. 

“How did you and Rory come to be? I’ve been given the impression monogamy hasn’t necessarily your trademark these past few years.” Bea asked quickly, rushing to get out the question she’d been dying to ask, before she could convince herself not to.

“Oh, that’s what you’ve _heard_?” Logan responded, raising his eyebrows. “Who’s been talking? Have you been inquiring about me? Is Logan Huntzberger a popular conversation topic in California?”

“Which one of those questions is your contractually agreed-upon question?” Bea countered, deflecting from his prying questions. She’d accidentally revealed that, yes, at times she had done a bit of reconnaissance about his status—of which relationship had only been one part, in her defense. She had also asked if he had been arrested, kicked out of school, or had a big falling out with his family recently.

“None of the above.” Logan answer in stride, smiling. He then looked off in the vague distance, seemingly musing over his answer. 

“I’ve had my taste of casual dating… or, how’d you put it? Non-monogamy. But then I met Rory, and she’s different, you know? We tried keeping it relaxed, but it didn’t work. We’ve been going steady since, with some ups and downs… like the time we got arrested together for grand-theft-yacht and her mom majorly disapproved.” He smiled sheepishly, comically shrugging his shoulders. 

On an internal level, this was a lot to process. However, on the outside, Bea wanted to keep going with the light tone they’d succeeded in striking so far. She felt they were on the precipice of falling back into awkward silence if she played the wrong move.

“So, her mom doesn’t approve of you… how about your parents? I heard they weren’t exactly thrilled about Honor’s fiancé.”

“Don’t even get me started on my parents and Rory.” Logan groaned. Clearly, there was a story there—one for a different day, it seemed, because Logan changed the subject quickly after that. “But hey, why didn’t you come to Honor’s engagement party? Wasn’t it on your summer break? I saw your parents and brother—didn’t stay too long after though, since the grand-theft-yacht incident occurred not too shortly after that.”

“Now is _that_ your question?” Bea again felt the need to stall, anxiously treading water until it was time for her to share personal information of her own. 

Logan seemed to sense this hesitation in her and pushed forward. “No—my question is what are you doing at Yale? The last time we spoke you were ecstatic to get away from your family, everyone you knew. To make a new life for yourself in California.” 

“I wasn’t ecstatic to get away from you, Logan.” Bea replied softly and quietly. It was less an actual correction of what he had said, and more a way of buying herself slightly more time.

“Really? I couldn’t tell from the total lack of communication.” Logan replied sarcastically, and while he had a smile lingering on his face, the tone of his voice had an edge to it. “No calls, no texts, no emails—it seems like you didn’t come back to New England for a single break.”

“Have _you_ been inquiring about _me_ , then?” Bea half-heartedly joked. 

“Yeah, I did.” Logan replied, solemnly, in a way that made her breath catch. 

“There were so many parties I wanted to invite you too, after all.” He added, now in a lighthearted tone. Bea let out a nervous chuckle, breathing a sigh of relief at being released from the intense moment.

“I’m glad I wasn’t invited to the party where you and your friends sunk a yacht, though.” Bea teased back. “Maybe it’s for the best I was gone.”

“Hey—I’m still waiting for my answer, Buzz.”

She gently rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hold back her smile at the warm memories that the old nickname brought to her. She had a feeling this had been his intended effect because, feeling relatively cheered up, she did feel ready to open up more.

“Things were going well at Stanford… until they weren’t. I was in a bad place.” Bea paused here, wondering what level of details to share about her last year at school. She wasn’t ready to be _completely_ vulnerable yet. She continued, “to make a long story short—I failed a lot of classes during my junior year. My parents were not pleased when they found out. They refused to continue paying my tuition and demanded I come home. Turns out they didn’t want to pay for Stanford anymore if I was messing up—I’m guessing they were more embarrassed that their daughter was failing publicly.” Bea exhaled, belatedly realizing she’d barely breathed throughout her entire explanation. 

She didn’t feel like her story was complete, but she also didn’t know how to end it. She half-heartedly added, “If it’s not clear, I’m very embarrassed by all of this.” She’d never told anyone this whole story out loud—her parents encouraged complete and total silence on the matter.

Logan had listened attentively throughout, maintaining concentrated eye contact, despite the noisy partygoers around them. 

“So you failed some classes? Who among us hasn’t?” Logan replied, gesturing widely around the bar. Bea knew he was attempting to break the tension with this, because she could see the glimmer of concern in his eye he was attempting to conceal. 

The last he’d seen of her, she’d been a straight-A student with a lengthy recreational reading list she cruised through all summer long. She knew that, in his mind, if the Bea he’d known had wound up as the Bea sharing these details now, some shit really must have gone down. An unspoken, mutual acknowledgement of this dramatic change seemed to float between them now. Bea welcomed it and counted on it as a way to hold off on sharing more concrete details about the Stanford chapter, for now.

“Anyways. For the last year, I was home in New York, practically under house arrest. I was practically pulling my hair out, being cooped up like that. I applied to Yale and a few other schools without telling my keepers about it. I needed an escape route, but more importantly, I _knew_ I was ready to try again. When I told them my plans to come here, they absolutely flipped out and refused. I think they didn’t want me to publicly fail a second time, especially now that’d it’d be closer to home.”

“Hey, I understand.” Logan replied empathetically. “Don’t forget—disappointing child is classically _my_ thing.”

“Yes, but _your_ parents have never disowned _you_.” Bea countered. Now was as good time as any to drop her biggest piece of news, she figured.

“Wait—are you serious? They actually disowned you?” Logan asked. His shocked double take was practically cartoonish.

“Well, yes and no. I’m informally disowned. I’m pretty sure formal disowning would be too public for their tastes. I suppose _estranged_ would be a better way to describe it.”

“I’m not sure in the history of humankind, parents have cut their child out of the family portrait for attending Yale, of all crimes.”

“There’s a little more to it than that, but yes, at the simplest explanation of it all, I’ve been cut off by my parents for deciding to come to Yale.”

“So that explains the jobs…” Logan said, his voice trailing off.

“Yep! I’m a working girl now. Luckily enough, Yale did provide me with some financial aid once I proved I had no income from my parents. But I still have rent and bills to pay.” 

“But your checking account? Credit cards? Trust fund?” Logan asked, incredulous.

“Nope, nothing anymore. Besides what the coffee cart and library deposit into my account, of course.” Bea explained. She felt the same confident energy she’d had when Logan encountered her at the coffee cart yesterday—something about his disbelief that this situation was even possible, that she was capable of working and supporting herself, made her feel defiant and empowered.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Logan replied, looking nothing short of awestruck at this point. “If there is anything I can do to—”

“I’ll stop you right there.” Bea cut in, interrupting him with a determined expression. “I will accept small things, like the drink Colin insistently offered, but I don’t want an extensive charity plan—even though I’m well aware you have enough spare cash around. I’m trying to provide for myself.”

“Fine, fine. I hear you.” Logan acquiesced. Though he had agreed to her wishes now, Bea had an inkling that it wouldn’t be the last time he offered her help this year. “Speaking of, where are those drinks?”

They both looked over to the bar, which had remained busy throughout their conversation. Finn, Colin, and Rory seemed to be at the front of the queue now.

“You know, Rory is currently estranged from her mom. Oh, and she’s also working a job! You two might have things to discuss.”

Bea looked over with her eyebrows raised at this pretty out of the blue comment by Logan.

“Mutual estrangement and employment? Those are the saddest excuses for two people to bond that I’ve ever heard, Logan.” Bea responded, laughing. 

“Well, I can’t help but think it’d be nice for the two of your to be friends, given everything.” He hesitated before continuing. “You know, how we’ll be seeing a lot of each other now that you’re at Yale. Right?” 

Logan’s inquiry seemed to have deeper context. She suddenly had a flash back to herself, four years earlier, in the position of the person who had been vaguely asking, “you’re planning to be around?” Here they were again, positions flipped, but in a very different context.

“I simply couldn’t stay away, I’m dying to get to know Finn and Colin more.” Bea responded, deciding to stay on the surface-level of meaning that humor provided.

Speak of the devils—Finn and Colin themselves sauntered over, boisterously balancing the drinks, as Rory trailed behind them at a safe distance, carrying her own drink. 

“Let the festivities continue! Who wants to bet me on something? Anything! I have a reputation to rebuild!” Colin announced, ceremoniously and haphazardly placing the various drinks on the table. 

Bea found herself smiling. She’d started the evening with great reluctance, yet she found herself in a good mood. Optimistic, even. 

Sure, she had no idea how she would sustain a friendship with Logan now, when they’d been romantic in the past. And could she have an uncomplicated friendship with his current girlfriend? Could she maintain her presence in their social world, now that she’d left it behind in many ways, to work and establish her independence? 

She had these questions and many more—but, for tonight, she put them out of her mind and instead started to brainstorm the most random thing she could bet Colin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a busy week I had with school! Really happy to have another chapter for all of my wonderful readers now before the weekend in technically over. This was a dialogue heavy one, which I always have fun writing. I also wanted to offer some important background info on Bea and some insight into Logan/Bea moving forward. Continue to let me know your thoughts in reviews! Happy to hear suggestions 😊


	6. The Element of Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan attempts to surprise Bea. Things do not necessarily go according to plan...   
> Another chapter back in time, in the summer at Martha's Vineyard!

_Setting: Summer, Later the Same Night, Logan’s Perspective_

All things considered, it hadn’t been the most dramatic family dinner he’d ever attended. It also hadn’t been his first time getting caught making out with a girl by a housekeeper. Regardless, something about the night struck Logan as anything but routine or mundane. Back at home, he buzzed with exhilarated energy, pacing the length of his bedroom, as he ran through the scenes from hours before, over and over. 

_Yes—this had been a significant night. Why not make it even more memorable?_ This idea came to Logan early into his pacing rounds. If Bea had been so pissed with him for not showing up all week, how would she react if he showed up for a second time, within the same night?

Surely, if she hadn’t forgiven him totally when she’d heard his explanation, this positive surprise would work.

He wouldn’t have admitted it to his friends—maybe not even himself, completely—but he had a romantic streak. What could he say? He had a flare for drama and an affinity for grand gestures with it came to relationships. 

In a certain way, he suspected he might have inherited this impulse from his father—whose gift-giving as a form of apology was notorious with his mother (as well as his father’s not-so-subtly hidden girlfriends). However, his father’s gift-giving impulse was far more cold-blooded and served as a way to apologize without actual emotion. For Logan, it was different. It was one way to express his feelings (which, yes, occasionally involved an apology gift because, no, he wasn’t perfect).

For tonight, though, a dramatic gesture would be all about communicating his new feelings—even if he couldn’t fully articulate them to himself yet.

He pictured a moment on the scale of Romeo and Juliet—Bea on a balcony, with him shouting up to her, then climbing up some sort of trellis. It didn’t take too long for this picture to be ruined by his knowledge that the Astors’ house lacked trellises, and that Bea was staying in the pool house for the summer, which was convenient (though perhaps boring, in terms of making a plan with pizazz).

He decided he’d just wing it, wanting to make a break for it before it got too late. The sun was setting, so the dusk-lighting provided him stealthy coverage as he crossed the backyard. Sneaking out of the house was second-nature to him, and his parents likely expected it from him at this point, so remaining as covert as possible was more of a sign of respect to his parents than anything else.

He made his way to the path that connected the two massive backyards of the Martha’s Vineyard estates. It was a well-groomed and paved path between bushes and trees that divided the two yards. While it had once been frequently traveled by the kids in earlier summers, he imagined that it was only maintained by the gardeners for appearances’ sake only these days. For example, earlier in the night, his parents had arrived at the Astors’ in one of their cars because it was “undignified” to arrive to a social invitation “on foot.”

Luckily, the connecting path’s exit was closer to the pool house than it was to the main house. He was reluctant to be seen by a prying parent or run into Bea’s younger brother Willy (known as Junior to his father, William Jr. to his mother, Willy to anyone else) who would rope Logan into an hour long conversation about a video game if he wasn’t careful. 

He approached the pool house and hesitated, wondering the best way to get her attention. Simply knocking on the French doors would deflate the surprise element a lot. He considered throwing rocks at a window, since he’d seen that move in multiple movies, but their lawn was so well-groomed that he didn’t see any stray rocks around for ammunition. 

Then it suddenly occurred to him how he’d encountered her a week ago—he’d accidentally surprised her by walking into the pool house. Maybe he’d try to recreate that scene! What had she first said to him then?—“Logan Huntzberger, is that you?” He could repeat those words back to her. Surely drawing parallels would have good dramatic effect.

He opened the doors to the pool house, just like he had a week ago, ready to greet her as he entered the room. He heard loud pop music playing from a stereo and was instantly ready to make a secondary joke about her music tastes. He looked around, expectantly, but it slowly dawned on him that Bea wasn’t in the main room. 

_Well, this complicates things._ Logan thought to himself, a feeling of uneasy awkwardness settling in. Without her present, he just felt like he was breaking and entering. At this point, any surprise would come off as a scare—not his intended goal. He thought about exiting the room, pretending he’d never been there, and knocking on the door instead. _Perhaps that had been the logical thing to do in the first place,_ he berated himself. 

But the music was turned up too loudly for her to hear a knock, wasn’t it? Okay, so his only other good option would be to call her name and make his presence known before he accidentally terrified her.

“Bea? It’s Logan.” He called out, with a raised voice. No response. “Hey, Bea!” He said, at a slightly louder volume, walking tentatively further into the room. No response again. He noticed a hallway across the room and assumed that must lead to the other rooms. Maybe he’d get closer to see if she could hear him from there. 

As he rounded the hallway corner, he collided into Bea instantly. She’d been heading out to investigate the shouts at top speed. The result was a very inelegant collision. 

Her forehead smacked against his nose, making his eyes water, and one of her limbs whacked him in the stomach, knocking his breath out. Since Logan had served as a solid wall to absorb the impact of the crash, Bea was totally thrown off her course and stumbled backwards.

He reached out quickly to steady her, willing to ignore his physical discomfort, praying she wouldn’t be too mad at him for yet another unexpected hallway encounter that night.

Once both were standing steady again, he got a chance to look at her better. She wore a big, puffy bathrobe, leaned against the wall, arms defiantly crossed, with a fierce look on her face. 

“First, you give me a heart attack, then you follow it up by crashing right into me?” Bea accused, in a voice that suggested frustration and just a hint of bemusement. 

“I’m really sorry about that. I wanted to surprise you. Needless to say, it backfired.” Logan replied, sheepishly.

“Well, consider me surprised.” Bea said, exasperated but with a small smile breaking through the surface. “But what are you doing here?” She added, puzzled.

“Since it took me a week to show up the first time—and I picked up on a couple subtle hints earlier that disappointed to you—my plan was to make it up to you by stopping by tonight.” Logan explained. 

Bea’s expression softened at this, seeming to be moved by his words. His plan, though it had largely gone awry, hadn’t been a _complete_ disaster then.

“I have to admit, I had the feeling you’d be around sooner rather than later, but I didn’t expect you breaking into my house hours later.” She joked, laughing at his guilty face when she described his breaking and entering, just as he’d feared.

“I swear I’ll knock next time.” Logan promised earnestly. “And look both ways before entering a hallway. I think you might’ve bruised one of my ribs.” He rubbed his side with an exaggerated grimace.

“Well, in that case, I suppose you can be forgiven. And I’m sorry about the rib, but you had to understand, I was running to the scene to see if I was being _robbed_.”

Relieved to be forgiven and for both of them to be joking again, he grinned.

Then he hesitated. _Now what?_ Clearly, this hadn’t been his most thought-out plan. It was relatively late at night, he couldn’t just invite himself out at this hour. What if she wanted him to leave and didn’t know how to approach the subject? 

So he abruptly offered, “Hey, do you want me to go? It’s kinda late.”

“Before you go, I’m curious to know what the next step in your plan was, once you’d surprised me.” She looked at him expectantly.

_Oh. Okay._ Well, it was now time to pray to the gods of suave and smooth moves and give himself a pep talk. _Pull it together, Huntzberger—your plan might have fallen apart at every seam tonight, but there’s still time to go out with a bang._

“I could _tell_ you what the next step of my plan was going to be,” Logan started, pausing for dramatic, hopefully seductive effect. “Or, I could _show_ you—if you want.” 

He maintained sultry, strong eye contact as he waited for her response.

She seemed to visibly gulp before responding in a somewhat wobbly voice. “Sure, you can show me.”

He didn’t wait a second longer, crossing over to where she leaned against the wall. He cupped either side of her face with both his hands, leaning forward and lingering, looking into her eyes, suddenly in no rush, wanting to savor the moment. When he eventually closed the space between them, and their lips met, it was all the more satisfying due to the growing anticipation.

So they kissed… and kissed some more… and kissed a little more. Besides parting occasionally for air, as was a basic human need, they had no restrictions to them this time—Gerta was nowhere in sight. 

Truthfully, as they kissed, Logan lost all sense of time. However, at a certain point, he felt it was his responsibility to pull away and call it a night for both of their sakes. 

“Let’s do this again sometime… maybe not in a hallway next time.” He joked, as he walked toward the doors to head home.

“We can try out as many locations as you want.” She replied, gesturing widely to the rest of the pool house and wiggling her eyebrows, in a way that was successfully equal parts silly and suggestive.

Logan feigned total shock with wide eyes and a gasp. “Wow, I really need to leave before you scandalize me further.”

“Scandalize _you_ , the notorious ladies’ man, Logan Huntzberger? Impossible.” 

“You’re welcome to try.” He replied with a flirty grin. This response received a solid amount of laughter from Bea.

They’d reached the doors and they said their final goodbyes, which may or may not have been delayed by slightly more kissing…

As he walked home, meditating under a dark night and bright moon, he thought to himself—after a strenuous, draining week with his father, this evening had been just the thing to turn the tide of his summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, I hope you enjoyed that flirtatious chapter! Honestly, scenes involving kissing are a challenge to me, but I had fun with this one, especially after writing the more serious conversation from the last chapter. Thanks for reading! As always, leave a review with any feedback you have for me! 😊


	7. Talks on the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Bea go sailing and get introspective!

_Setting: Summer, A Couple Weeks Later, Bea’s Perspective_

In the next few weeks, the physical side of their romance continued to heat up alongside some record-breaking temperatures June days. Who could blame them, really? They were two young adults, relatively unchaperoned, with some fairly off-the-charts chemistry, and all the time in the world on their hands. 

Yet the emotional side of their relationship developed at an equal, if not faster, rate. 

At first, this might have been surprising—especially to Logan, who had made it a point in the past not to open up to any girlfriends. But Bea and Logan weren’t _exactly_ boyfriend and girlfriend, and this grey area, rather than halting progress between the two of them, actually allowed their relationship to flourish. 

The fact that they were building upon their friendship of their younger years only helped matters. Plus, hooking up only took up so much time in a long summer day before they had to fill the hours with something else to do or grow bored. Really, them growing as close as they did in the space of time was inevitable, if they thought about it. 

At least, that’s how Bea felt about things, as she reflected back on the past couple weeks. She was in an introspective state, mesmerized, watching the water speed by her, trees seeming to glide along the shoreline, birds hovering above, above, the sun glimmering faintly in the mildly overcast day. A boat was the perfect place for such deep reflections.

She’d been actively avoiding looking at Logan as he sailed the boat—if she looked, she’d be reminded of her simultaneous fear that he’d sink the boat (after all, he wasn’t the most responsible person she knew) and also her undeniable attraction to see him capable of sailing a whole freaking boat (if that wasn’t an appealing skill, what else was?).

After a moment, Bea couldn’t resist the temptation to broach her concern again. She’d voiced her worries on land, in the process of getting on the boat, and while leaving the docks, but felt you couldn’t be _too_ careful. 

“To confirm—you’re sure you know how to sail this boat on your own?” Bea hollered over the sound of wind and waves. Logan waved a hand at her, along with a roll of his eyes, which gave her the sense that he was busy with boat-related things (she lacked the sailing vocabulary to even describe his actions in her mind). 

Once he had navigated the boat to an intimate inlet, dropped and secured the anchor, (that she could name) he came over and sprawled out next to her. She was reclined on her beach towel and applying a second coat of sunscreen—necessary for her, even on an overcast day. She adjusted the floppy, wide-brim of her sunhat to make eye contact. 

Logan met her eyes with a playfully confident, told-you-so look. “Yes, I’m more than qualified to sail this boat. I _told_ you—the only bonding time with my father that I actually learned something was sailing.”

“Sailing _and_ womanizing, you think?” Bea prodded. 

She’d recently been reading through the Stanford fall course catalogue and was thinking about adding a psychology minor. In particular, a course description of a class on developmental psychology about children, childhood, and parenting caught her eye. In this question, she might’ve been unconsciously testing out her own hypothesis about the Huntzberger family—in what world was it possible that Logan _hadn’t_ been affected by his childhood with his overbearing and, to put it frankly, asshole of a father?

“Hey, I’m offended by that.” Logan protested, laughing, but then continued with a serious, thoughtful look on his face. 

“You know, I once caught him in the driveway in the back of his town car with his secretary—and they certainly weren’t talking business. I was probably 10 years old. I had to have the birds and the bees with our nanny later that day because of it. I think my dad told her to, but I can’t know for sure because they drove back to the New York office shortly after I saw them. At no point in all of that did I think, ‘hey, Mitchum Huntzberger seems like a great role model for relationships.’”

Hearing this personal childhood story was unexpected. Bea observed Logan as he spoke, noticing notes of embarrassment, frustration, and bitterness as he relayed the events. He looked off in the distance as he spoke, not looking toward her. She slipped her hand in his and rested her head against his shoulder, joining him in looking out at the water as she replied.

“If it makes you feel better, I rarely see my parents in the same room together unless it’s an arranged social gathering. At the start of the summer, my dad came home on Friday afternoons and left after dinner on Sunday night. These days, I see the arrival headlights of his car reflect on the pool water at, like, 11PM on Saturday and he heads out after Sunday brunch half the time. It makes me wonder, what’s the point, you know? Is every relationship, every person, every interaction, fake in my family?”

Logan shifted closer to her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I’ve wondered something similar in the past. You know, I’m not sure what drew my dad to my mom in the first place, but it definitely seems like a hollow obligation now. I worry that’s what they want for me someday—when they want me to continue the family legacy, they won’t really care if I’d be happy or not as long as a wind up with a suitable match for the Huntzberger name.”

Their conversation had struck a nerve of a whole suit of things that had irked Bea for years now. Listening, feeling more and more fired up, Bea sat up straight and twisted to look directly at Logan. 

“What does this stuff even matter? Legacies? Reputations? At the end of the day, isn’t what they really care about money? As long as they have that, they get to have everything else.” Bea asked heatedly.

Logan shrugged his shoulders in response, remaining unruffled for the most part. “I think you’re wrong about that, actually. Financial credit is one thing, but they’re an old-fashioned pretentious type in thinking that social wealth, or status, is just as important as actual wealth. Remember when you made us read _The Great Gatsby_ last week? They’re exactly like the old money families looking down on Gatsby for his new wealth but secretly wanting to attend all of his parties.”

That explanation made a lot of sense to Bea. She relaxed again somewhat, now that the conversation was moving away from the personal to the intellectual. 

“Now that you mention it, I’m thinking about the idea of the Gilded Age. A gilded object appears to be pure gold, but really it’s just a thin gold coating covering boring wood, or metal, or something like that. False extravagance! That’s such a metaphor for our parents. Edith Wharton could write a novel about our families, easily.”

“Your future English-major side is showing, Bea.” Logan joked lightly.

“Touché.” She grinned, pausing, then voiced a random thought that suddenly popped into her head. “What major do you think you’ll be?”

“What, do you mean I can’t graduate as undecided?” He paused as she laughed and shook her head. He pretended to look deep in thought before responding with a face too serious to be actually serious, “How about party planning?”

Bea rolled her eyes. “You’re too intelligent to not take college at least _a little_ seriously, Logan.”

“I’m sure I’ll learn a few things, at a few points. I’m most interested in the social scene—we’re adults now. I want to take risks, get the most out of life. You know, I heard from my grandfather that there’s a secret society that I’ll get to join. Can you imagine that?” Now Logan was sitting up, animated, eyes glowing at this future college scene he was describing.

“I’m counting on having no connections to anyone on the West Coast and hoping for the best. I hope there are no societies, secret or otherwise, that will connect themselves to me through my family out there.” Bea responded. Her determined and somewhat bitter tone caught his attention, pulling him back from the daydreams of future parties. 

“So you’re really determined then, to cut ties like that, from your family?” He asked, eyebrows raised slightly, reaching out to hold her hand again, as if to keep her steady through that small contact.

Bea took a deep breath, plunging forward with the absolute truth she hadn’t really gotten to express to anyone else before. “I want—no, _need_ —to get away from them. You’re better at rebelling and defying your parents; I’m far too passive for that. If I stay, I’m afraid I’ll become malleable over time and become everything they want me to be. A superficial, dependent ornament—useless, helping no one else, making no difference.”

He listened attentively as she spoke, occasionally soothingly caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. He responded thoughtfully, “I’m not sure I _am_ better at rebelling. You’re the one who’s actually taking a stand. I’m just making the most of every free moment I have until they reel me in.”

This caught Bea’s attention. She’d always perceived of Logan as not having a care in the word, having an ultimate kind of independence. She’d never once thought of herself as the defiant one. Now, though, she pondered this possibility—was it true that she was planning to break away in the truly meaningful way? And what did it suggest about Logan, that he was willing to stay? 

“If that’s the life you want, there’s nothing wrong with that strategy I guess. Our parents, their friends, some of them seem happy—at least all of them seem committed to their choice of that life. They must have their reasons. Maybe they’ll fulfill what you want from life too.” Bea mused.

“Maybe.” Logan said in equally thoughtful and doubtful tones, looking off in the distance once again.

“The water out here really makes us think deep thoughts, huh? What are we supposed to do out here, anyways?” Bea responded lightly, hoping to pull him back in with a topic change.

“Well, when it’s my dad and I, he usually lectures me loudly, scaring all the fish away, while I sit in stoic silence, willing the trip to be over.” Logan replied sarcastically, grimacing at the memory.

“That doesn’t seem like it would work for us. Maybe we could go the Melville route and keep an eye out for the White Whale?” Bea suggested, referencing the huge, water-stained novel next to her beach towel. She’d been trying to get through it all summer long with only minor success.

“Or we could lounge, sunbathe, and nap like walruses do on the sea ice. Or swim, also like walruses.” Mirroring this picture of relaxation, Logan reclined backward, folding his hands behind his head, stretching luxuriously.

“Did you watch a nature documentary about walruses or listen to that Beatles walrus song recently or something?” Bea asked, even knowing Logan was messing with her, but still thoroughly confounded by the sudden references to walruses.

Logan continued with the bit, suddenly bolting up as though experiencing an aha moment. “Hey! Maybe I will major in walrus studies.”

“Glad that’s solved.” Bea said, rolling her eyes, laughing, and realizing that there was no real need to plan the rest of the afternoon—the two of them would always inevitably wind up finding ways to amuse or engage each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, school has kept me super busy the last few weeks! I’m still interested in this story, but as a result of my hectic schedule, fanfiction chapters might be posted every couple weeks (rather than once per week). Hope you enjoyed the developments in this chapter—I had a lot of fun writing Logan and Bea talking about some deep stuff that’s quite important to their characters’ views of the families and society/the world in general, as well as their relationship. Please consider reviewing, giving kudos, and/or subscribing if you’re liking the fanfiction. I appreciate any and all positive vibes right now! 😊

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading :) Just a few notes to clarify a couple things. First, the events of this story are taking place during the start of Season 6. If I've done my research/math correctly, the year is 2005! Rory is in her semester off from Yale, and Logan is at the start of his senior year (because he graduates at the end of Season 6). In the show, Doyle mentions Logan took a year off for yacht-sailing, which is why it is four years later (not three) when Bea meets him again. She also had a year off, but more on that in a later chapter! Second, if it wasn't clear from the summary, this is mostly a story about Logan and my original character, Bea! Rory is a secondary character, and so I want to be clear early on -- if you're a diehard Logan/Rory fan, this might not be the perfect fic for you! In fact, (minor spoiler alert) if you're a Rory/Jess fan, I plan to have a bit of that occur in later chapters! Last but not least, I was on the fence about the rating. This chapter was pretty general/teen audience, but future chapters might go up to Mature. These are relationships between adults after all! So, more on that to be determined later!


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